One Last Time Before The End
by HeartoftheNighte
Summary: Prequel to End of a Road Not Yet Taken.  It still floored him that she could unravel him so.  That she destroyed everything that he had been and made him into something else.  Heavily AU.  Lucas/Skye aka Luckye


**A/N:** A fic fill for the Valentine's Day Challenge at thankyou_bucket and a prequel to a fic a posted a short time ago, End Of A Road Not Yet Taken. With less angst and death and stuff. :)

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><p>He's lost in a world of science, of his own making, when the phone rings. The sound didn't break through the spell of calculations, equations, possibilities spinning visions in his mind, written with numbers. Complex and beautiful to him as he tried to decipher their meanings. Grab them, listless digits like the long lost fireflies, glowing brightly with their possibilities. Take hold of them and make them obey his command to become what they were supposed to be. Meant to be. Created for, for this purpose in time.<p>

It was predicted he'd be the last great mind of his time. The world wouldn't live long enough to see another grow to his capabilities. It made his current work an obligation almost. A duty to solve this one last mystery of mankind before it went extinct. The final veil shredded as humanity reached its culmination of evolution. Its pure purpose. The emotion irrational to his scientific mind. Made little sense in a world of logic and reason. A part of himself he despised, saw as weak. It dragged you down and blinded you. Feelings, emotions, were mans greatest weakness. Made him irrational, disregard survival instinct and what it must do to endure.

The incessant ring of the phone finally cut through his concentration. With annoyance he snatched it from under a pile of papers and plex plug-ins. "Yeah?"

"You forgot, didn't you?"

The sound of her voice washed the thoughts from his mind, cleansing him of everything but the warmth that spread through his body. Calculations scattering under the waves, dissolving into meaningless numbers and symbols once again. A small voice protesting, but it was a whisper in the storm of her. "Bucket." Anger gone, annoyance forgotten, just warm pleasure at the knowledge she was the one at the other end of the signal.

It still floored him that she could unravel him so. That she destroyed everything that he had been and made him into something else. A different man who found it hard to hate, to remember the pain imbedded in his very soul like shrapnel from a bomb.

"Lucas."

"Hey." Smiling though it was only a voice call, not video. "Yeah?" She'd asked him something, he realized, but he couldn't remember what it might have been.

"You were supposed to pick me up, remember?"

He did at the anger in her voice. Could hear the sound of a noisy 'port terminal in the background. "Fuck," he hissed, already scrambling.

"That's what I thought."

Annoyance, disappointment, hurt. When he screwed up, he never went halfway. "Bucket, I'm sorry. I'm on my way."

"Forget it. I'll get a cab."

He swore again as he hastily shoved papers and hologram images of his work into some form of neatness as he searched for one piece in particular. "No, don't. I'm on my way." He found what he was looking for, wincing as something thudded to the floor and rolled. "I'm already on the road." A bald lie, but hell.

She sighed, like she knew. "Whatever."

The line went dead and he cursed again at his carelessness. It'd been nearly a month since they'd seen each other last and that had been a scant few minutes at that. Waiting at the port to kiss her and murmur her name, a soft goodbye, as she ran from one connecting flight to the next. But they'd been planning and rearranging schedules for the last two months to make this trip happen. As it was, they'd only have a few days. A time easily measured in hours.

Video calls did little to bridge the distance. Though he was often sprawled across his bed as they spoke, she'd be in a communication shack wherever she happened to be stationed with several other military personnel doing the same thing. And though the lack of privacy didn't seem to bother her, it made it hard for him to speak to her like he'd become accustomed to. Most often just a soft murmur, intimate, quiet. Meant only for her ears and not the jarheads who happened to be in the same room. And video feed could not properly translate her look, her expressions and her smiles. There was something organic in them that could only be truly experienced when under the light of. Like a sun she could never be properly copied, synthesized. Something would always be missing.

The Chicago streets were packed, filled tight and overflowing with people as he drove as fast as he could. His transport vehicle small, quick, the most modern and premium of its kind, a sharp contradiction to his shabby apartment. But he was often lost in his work and the appearances around him mattered little whereas he was impatient by nature. Hated to wait to cross a distance. Wanted it over with as soon as possible so he could continue on with the reason why he was heading there in the first place. And what was waiting for him that night only intensified everything.

As he drove to the sky-port, he accessed the flight and passenger manifest. Found her name and what flight she'd been on, which terminal she'd be waiting at. She'd told him on their last call when she'd let him know their plans had finally been confirmed. But after the line went dead and the holographic screen had shown nothing but the peeling paint of his wall, he'd gone back to his work and the information had been lost.

At the 'port it seemed everyone was hellbent on delaying him further. People pushing and pressing on all sides as he fought forward. The re-breather he wore not helping the claustrophobia scrabbling under his skin. He hated being surrounded, trapped. It always took him back. Back to Somalia and the wave of rebels that stormed the city, driving before them the terrified citizens like sheep. Keeping him from his mother. From protecting her, saving her. The panic in his system angering him, making him feel weak. Weak as the scrawny fourteen year old boy he wasn't anymore.

He felt tempted to turn around, leave. Go back to his apartment and his numbers and his equations. Those he knew how to deal with, bend to his will. They were safe and free of people. Nothing was worth this discomfort, this... pain of a reminder.

His steps slowing, preparing to stop and turn when he saw her. Through the layers of plastic glass, the last and only person standing in the terminal waiting area. And like before, everything flooded out of his system except for the relief that she was there. Still. Waiting for him even though he'd failed her too.

He shouldered his way through the layers of doors, tearing the re-breather from his face as he entered the filtered terminal. Unable to help the smile that lit up his face as he walked towards her even though she was visibly angry. Giving him nothing but her profile, arms crossed, back military straight. A frown wrinkling her brow. In a word, beautiful.

Skye was at the end of her patience when Lucas finally arrived. Angry and hurt that he'd forgotten he was her ride from the 'port. All they had was two days. Two days. Forty eight hours. Almost half used for the uselessness of sleeping. It mattered little that she slept easier in his arms. Wrapped tight in his warmth, soft skin cocooning her, the scent of him over her like a blanket. It was safety and that was ridiculous. He was a scientist, a mathematician and a physicist, and she the soldier. The protector, the savior. But she was a girl too and with him, she was unafraid to show that. To let herself be that because she knew he'd never judge her for not being strong enough. With him it was alright to fall apart at the brush of fingertips across her cheek, a softly murmured ridiculous nickname. With him, everything was right.

She caught him out of the corner of her eye at first. Wide white smile and brilliant eyes. And like a moth to a flame, the long dead flower to the hidden sun, she turned to him, drawn. Struggled to hold onto her anger as she took him in.

He had several days growth of beard she noticed first. Like he'd forgotten to shave. His hair in need of a good trim. Dark shadows under his eyes telling her he hadn't been sleeping well again. Clothes rumpled like he'd slept in them and hanging loose on his frame like he'd lost weight. Probably had because he'd forgotten to eat. She felt a dual well of affection and annoyance at his appearance. There was something charming, undeniably endearing, in the way he could become so absorbed. Lost in a world of his own making that very few could comprehend. She'd often sit for hours and just watch him work. Making sense and creating possibilities out of nothing. Afterwards he'd try and tell her what he'd done, what had been accomplished. It doesn't mean anything to her until they're lying naked, entwined, and he's murmuring the words into her ear as he traces them on her skin. Then she thinks she gets a glimpse, a small window, into the beauty that he sees and wishes she could stay there with him forever. But it hurts, angers her that he can shut her out, discard her as easily as the rest of the world while he wrestles with the problem. He doesn't see her when she's watching him, waiting for him. Always waiting for him to see that though there is beauty, meaning in what he does, there is still more, real life there.

He caught her face in his hands, taking her breath with, as he placed a lingering kiss to her forehead. She curled her fingers around his wrists as her eyes closed, the contact making something finally click into place. A missing piece reconnected, like a limb, a vital organ. She'd admitted to herself the first night she met him that she probably loved him. It had become an irreversible truth a month in and they'd made love that first time. She'd yet to tell him though. Not because she was afraid, worried that he wouldn't return her affections. She wasn't built that way. She didn't know how to hold back her feelings to save herself. The problem was almost their entire relationship had been built over hundreds, sometimes thousands, of miles apart. It seemed wrong to say those words for the first time through a camera. And when they were together they seemed small. Insignificant to what they were experiencing.

"You're late," she told him when he released her and stepped back. It was a struggle to hold onto her anger in the face of his public show of affection. Lucas wasn't a man that liked to demonstrate emotion to random viewers.

Regret filled his face, ached from every pore. "I'm sorry, Bucket."

His sincerity made her feel guilty, flaring her annoyance. And she just didn't want to dwell in that, not when they had so little time. "Lets go." She'd feel better with the flight cleansed from her skin.

He nodded, grabbing her duffel and slinging the heavy bag over his shoulder. His hand catching hers, fingers twining and holding on, he gave her a smile before leading her from the terminal.

They had to pause at the doors to fit the re-breathers onto their faces. The polluted air thick and heavy around the bustling sky-port, people still rushing back and forth, pressing in on all sides. But the irrational panic didn't bubble up, restrained, tied down by Skye's fingers curled around his. She was like a wall, this little shield that he could tuck under his chin, against everything. Even when she was pissed at him she was his saving grace.

Skye went to the passengers seat when they reached the transport vehicle while Lucas tried to find space in the rear hatch for her duffel. The vehicle was small and filled with boxes of his paperwork, plastic chip copies, models. A small pile of the same on the seat that she snatched up and was about to throw in the backseat when something caught her eye. Sitting down and closing the door so she could pull off the re-breather, she extracted the one disposable plex that had gotten her attention. It was a dinner reservation to the nicest restaurant in town. For two.

Worry crawled through her system like dirty oil, threatening to sully everything. Maybe it was from a date with some one else. Some one who wasn't so far away all the time, that could get away from their work for more than a day at a time with months in between. Enough of her friends in the military had experienced the same problem to make it a valid concern. But then she saw the date, the time stamp. Her and Lucas' names in elegant script. Tears welled in her eyes for a whole new and not bad at all reason. Anger and annoyance a long distant memory and smile wobbling, she activated the preview of the table.

The whole dining area was dimly lit with artificial candle light, warm and glowing. The setting simple, but beautiful. A white table cloth, a small bouquet of rare and real red roses the centerpiece. A handful of the petals spread artfully on the table. All done per Lucas' request, so noted in a small discreet text at the bottom of the page.

Lucas slipped into the driver's seat, tossing his re-breather to the backseat as he shut the door and keyed in the starter code for the transport. Pulling out of the parking and heading back to his apartment before he noticed Skye staring at his profile. He turned to look at her and found her watching him with a tearful smile. Worry clenched his heart like a vice before he noticed what she held in her hand. The reservation he'd been looking for on his desk. He opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off with a kiss to his cheek,

"I'm sorry we missed it," she whispered.

He sighed. "We wouldn't have if I hadn't... gotten distracted."

She smiled at his choice of words. "Lucas, the reservation was for six. My flight got in at seven."

He knitted his brow in confusion, glancing at the console that informed it was eight thirty. "I thought you were getting in at four?"

"My flight was delayed. Good thing you forgot, huh?"

"I'm sorry." A small part of him lingering on the thought that he hadn't said those words for years. Since his mother died and his father lifted his broken and weeping body off the dusty ground. He'd carried him away from Somalia, but never quite out. The thought combusting, destroying, when she cupped his cheek in her hand. He leaned into the touch, hungry for it. Desperate for her to chase away everything but them.

Skye felt guilt bubble in her system as she noticed his reaction to her simple touch. Guilt that she'd been so angry over something so small and the thought that he might have found some one else. "Shh," she told him gently. "Its the thought that counts."

He half smiled at the old saying, curling an arm around her shoulders and bringing her head to rest on his. She snuggled down with a contented sigh, fingering the palm sized plex still in her hand.

"What possessed you to make dinner reservations a month ago?" She asked curiously, noting the date the table had been requested. The exact date of her leave had been unsteady until just a day or two ago.

He shifted and she got the distinct impression he was blushing, but it was impossible to tell in the darkness of the transporter. "I wanted it to be special."

She quirked an eyebrow at his uncomfortable tone. "What?"

He squirmed again, like he was trying to think of a way to not admit something embarrassing. Finally sighing and giving in under her unflinching gaze. "Our first Valentine's," he admitted quietly.

She blinked then looked down at the date on the plex again. Oh. She hadn't even realized what the date was when her and Lucas had settled on it. Made all the jokes and comments from her comrades a lot clearer. She chuckled. "I hadn't even realized." She rested her head on his shoulder, thumb rubbing the image of the table when a thought occurred to her. "I didn't get you anything," she told him sadly, looking up at him.

He smiled down at her, the hand around her shoulders rising to pull stray hair off her cheek and behind her ear. "Its okay. You're here. That's all I'll ever want."

She smiled at his sappy words and wished that he would show this side of himself to more than just her. Let the world and more importantly, his father, know that he wasn't cold and dead inside. That he wasn't just a mind, a brain that could not connect to people on an emotional level. But Lucas and Taylor had left whatever civil relationship they'd had in Somalia with Ayani's ashes. And Lucas, Lucas had lost the strength to let another piece of himself be taken away by another person that day too. Except with her and she didn't know why. Why he opened himself to her, let her in when he hadn't for so many years. She would've thought he'd hate her, his father's prodigy. He had, that first night they met. Dislike coloring the words they spit at each other in a barely civil manner. They only knew each other by reputation at that point, views of them filtered through Taylor's lens. She'd thought him the arrogant cold hearted bastard son that couldn't forgive his father for something he hadn't been able to foresee and control. He'd thought her a simpering ass kisser trying to climb the chain of command through favor and not actual merit. But after a few hours and she thinks maybe a bottle of synthetic whiskey, they'd found out something utterly different about each other. Barbs and accusations had melted away into anecdotes of their lives, remembrances of their parents and the times they'd met as children. Her father had been a close friend of Taylor's and under his command for years. A common occurrence for the two families to get together until Jack Tate had been transferred to another unit. They hadn't seen each other again until that night.

Lucas' apartment is tiny and cluttered with his work. It stops Skye in her tracks as she gazes around at everything. There's papers and one sheet plex's strewn across every available surface and pinned to the walls, filled with calculations made with numbers and symbols. They're beautiful and complex, windows into the man standing behind her for those that knew how to look. It takes her breath away, makes her feel like some one has made a doorway into Lucas and shoved her through it. Feels like she's standing inside of him, maybe even trespassing and she doesn't want to take another step for fear of stepping on something fragile. But then he's stepping around her, smiling at her hesitancy.

"I know, its a mess." His tone apologetic as he began to gather up items and pile them on the tiny desk.

She smiled at his mistaken assumption. "No, its fine. Its just... You've been busy."

He laughed, ducking his head. "Yeah. You know how I get when I start a new project. I believe you say 'inspired' though many others use the term 'obsessed'."

She chuckled, dropping the re-breather she held in her hand on top of the stack he'd just made on the desk. "What are you working on?" She asked, making a slow circle, taking everything in. Every available surface was covered, even the bed, confirming her suspicion that he hadn't been sleeping. Boxes of takeout half eaten scattered amongst the chaos.

"I'd tell you, but then I'd have to kill you."

She mock glared at him. "Not funny."

"But so true."

She quirked her brow at him, lifting up a piece of synthetic paper with symbols etched on it that made no sense to her. "Government?"

"No, private corporation. Skyline International."

Her heart did a little stutter of apprehension. "Lucas, you do know who they are, right?"

Her tone deflated his smile and he rubbed his brow as he stared down at some of his work. "Yeah. That's why I don't want to tell you what all this is. Its going to get leaked somehow, someday, and I don't want them suspecting you."

She appreciated the fact that he understood he wasn't working for necessarily good people. "Why would you take a contract from them? They're strongly rumored to be responsible for the uprising in the Saudi Republic, the conflict in Nigeria. Behind the bombings in Guatemala."

"I know." Tone with a defensive edge to it. "But we all have bills to pay." He smiled sarcastically, the look fading as she merely stared at him with arms crossed, not buying his explanation. She'd been stationed to one of the places she mentioned. Had been informed she was to be transferred to the Saudi Republic with the rest of her unit within the next month or so as part of relief aid to the local government.

He sighed. "They're paying me ridiculous, profane even, amounts of money for this project, Bucket. Enough to buy a spot in one of the domes for , a family. For several generations."

She looked down and away, understanding where he was coming from with that. Her pay wasn't even enough to support two people, let alone secure a future for any children she might have. But Lucas, with his skills, could give them a future in safety while all the world crumbled around them.

"Its not even that though," he continued quietly. "What they're proposing is impossible. A dream that scientists throughout the centuries have sought to make possible and have failed in every regard. But they've found... something, somehow. Something that makes it more than just an insane dream. It could change mankind forever."

Dread settled in her stomach at his words. History had taught her that mankind's greatest inventions and dreaming above himself had brought nothing but destruction as their current world showed. "Lucas... What could be so...?" She didn't even know how to ask him what he meant.

He must have caught something in her voice though, because he smiled reassuringly. "Its not a bomb or anything like that. Its harmful capabilities are debatable, but so are its positive... possibilities."

The tension eased in her stomach a little and she took another step farther into the apartment that brought her to Lucas' side. Her hand reaching out to hold his as she looked up at him. "That wasn't cryptic or anything," she told him with a smile.

He chuckled, reaching up to hold her chin, thumb brushing under her mouth. "Sorry." He didn't sound apologetic at all. "Have to keep you're inquisitive and insatiably curious mind safe."

She smiled, standing on tiptoe to place a kiss on his mouth, the first since she'd arrived. Chaste at first, just a contact of skin on skin that she needed to reassure herself that this wasn't just another dream she was having. One that Reynold's would shake her out of with an embarrassed and distinctly uncomfortable look.

The kiss quickly devolved into something else like it always did. She couldn't remember a time when such a simple thing stayed that way. Becoming heated, deeper, as they began to fall into the hunger that never seemed to go away. Lips parting, slick heat building, breathing becoming erratic. His hands bunching the fabric of her shirt at her waist, seeking skin. She so wanted to let him continue on his path, but she'd been traveling for two days without a shower anywhere in there. Could feel the grime and pollution thick on her skin and wanted it off.

She pulled away with a shaky breath, heart stuttering as he pressed his forehead to hers.

"Bed?" He murmured.

She moaned as he followed the question up with a caress of her waist he'd uncovered. "Shower first," she responded.

"Mm. I'll join you."

She laughed as she pulled away. "Lucas, _I_ can barely fit in there."

He sighed. "Fine. I'll be waiting."

She gave him a crooked grin as she rifled through her duffel in search of fresh clothes before slipping into the stall that served as a bathroom. Barely enough room to move, unlike the communal places she was used to on a military base. But at least here, there wasn't twenty other people, most guys, sharing that same stall.

There wasn't time for a long lingering shower. Water rations had been in effect for years. So long that she couldn't remember it any other way. It was lukewarm as well, but it aided the soap in cleaning her skin.

She took her time drying her hair and getting ready for bed. Making sure to use the lotion Lucas had got her a few months ago that smelled like roses. It was a small jar, in real glass, softly painted. She only used it when she visited him.

When she emerged, she could tell he'd worked to tidy it up some. The scattered pieces of his work had been gathered and confined to the desk, the takeout cleaned up and thrown away. The bed made with Lucas sitting on it. He had his back against the wall, knees propped up, using them as a support for the notebook he was writing in. She smiled at the image he made, still in his old clothing, studiously at work. Went to him, crawling onto the bed. He looked up at her with a smile, spreading his knees wider and opening his arms. She took the invitation, fitting herself into the space he'd made. Her back to his front, his chin on her shoulder, his arms wrapped tight around her as he put the notebook in front of them both and continued his work.

"What are you working on?" She asked softly, melting into the warmth of his body all around her, _finally,_ after a too long a time away.

He pressed his cheek against her, inhaling deeply, pausing in his work before he answered. "An equation that I've been working on for a long time and haven't been able to solve."

She watched his hands as they began to move again, writing letters and numbers and symbols. It covered several lines, each one smaller than the last. Numbers changing, symbols being removed. She'd never been a big fan of math or science or much in the way of academics, so she didn't try to make head nor tales of it. "Doesn't look that hard," she murmured. Not when compared to what was strewn around the room and lying in piles on the desk.

He huffed a small laugh. "Yeah." Paused to rub his temple with the end of his pen. "Sometimes though," he resumed, words and pen together, "its the easiest things that are the hardest to understand."

She closed her eyes as she felt his voice seeping into her being, making a fucked up world seem right. Like everything would be okay so long as she just stayed in the circle of his arms and heard his voice. Soft with a note of huskiness she wondered about, but nevertheless enjoyed. "How so?"

He sighed, coming near to the end and the answer he'd been searching for for so very long. "I'm used to things being hard. The solutions to problems always being difficult that I stopped looking for the easy answers. The ones out in the open because they were never there."

Her heart lurched at his words. Aching that everything that had come so naturally to her; her lifestyle in the military, a family that had loved and encouraged her, friends she'd made in school, had been a battle for him, always. A struggle to be understood when the only one that had, had been violently ripped from his life. A father that couldn't comprehend what his son was about or how to bridge that gap between who they were on a basic level. Social interactions a maze that his complicated mind had trouble understanding when it grasped sense and meaning out of a chaos very few could fathom.

"But then I met you," he continued and her heart somersaulted again. "And everything started to come right. The hard ways no longer the answers and its taken me-" he huffed a laugh "-a very long time to understand that. With you," he whispered into her ear, "everything becomes clear." He finished the equation, writing the answer a couple lines below the problem and circled it.

Tears were threatening and she wasn't sure why. The husky emotion in his voice simmering through her, letting her know he was trying to tell her more than the words could convey. Knew he couldn't just come out and say what he wanted to. Understanding what he felt and needed was always a maze she couldn't always navigate, but knew she needed to find the answer to what he was saying now. Then her eyes caught the page, the answer at the bottom circled in red. At first she thought it was some code she'd have to decipher. Plug into a plex and run a program to see what it meant, but he'd talked about easy answers and it all became clear. Her breath caught. In his simple scrawl, made with letters and symbols and numbers, was written "I love you".

With tears brimming in her eyes she looked up at him and found him watching her with that half smile, embarrassed and hopeful. "Lucas," she breathed, turning in his arms so she could face him, cup his cheek in her palm. "I love you, too." She'd always thought she'd be the first to break and say those words and it touched her, deep in her heart and soul, that she meant enough, that those words were strong enough, for him to be the one to reach out.

He took a shaky breath, like he'd been holding it the whole time and pressed his forehead to hers, closing his eyes on the words he'd been so desperate to hear. The notepad fell from his numb fingers as he curled his hands around her shoulders, holding tight. "Happy Valentine's Day," he managed to get out.

Her tears burst forth as she wrapped her arms around his neck and clung like she never wanted to let go. "I love you. So much." She pulled back and gave him a watery smile. "Even though you're such a brain."

He chuckled at the old insult that had become an endearment, pushing her hair of her damp cheek, letting his fingers tangle in the curls. "Mmm, the Brain and the Bucket-Head. It has a certain ring to it."

She laughed. "We'll never live it down."

"Probably not."

"What do you think we should do?"

"Never leave this room?"

"I am _so_ down with that."

"Yeah?"

"Uh-huh."

He run a hand down her back, curled it around her waist. "Forever is a long time. What should we do?"

She gave him a mischievous smile as she fell back on the bed, pulling him over her. Kissed him deeply as she unbuttoned his shirt. "This?" She asked breathlessly when he pulled away to pull off the clothing.

He smiled before rejoining her. He didn't answer, but she figured when he started kissing her again that that was sort of irrelevant.

They spent the next two days in the apartment, never quite feeling the inclination to leave. Most of it spent naked in the bed. When not busy with other things, they used the time to talk quietly. About his work, the places she'd been stationed. Sometimes about his father, a subject he was just now beginning to heal over. She'd tell him about the latest antics of the people she served with, the pranks they'd play on her CO. Calling for takeout because she couldn't muster the will to leave his room to go and pick up food to cook.

If only for a little while, they were safe in a world of their own making. Though they talked of what happened outside the four walls they were ensconced in, it didn't really touch them. Four forty eight hours, she wasn't in the military. She wasn't heading back out into a war zone where each day might be her last. Fighting for peace in a world that wouldn't live long enough to appreciate it. Where hope was gasping its last fitful breaths amongst the millions who couldn't afford the re-breathers that had become necessary to live. It was just them, curled under the blankets, wrapped in soft whispers for a future they didn't bother to admit might never come true.

When Lucas returned from the sky-port after taking Skye to her flight, he found his notebook on the bed. The page he'd written his declaration on was gone and in its place she'd left a message of her own. She'd mimicked what he'd written, except she'd added the number "two" and an infinity sign.

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><p><strong>Ending AN:** Not really sure I like this. I don't really write romantic fluff stuff 'cause I ain't no good at it. And I fought with this fic so much. It first started off as a little drabble, then morphed into a longer fic that tried to be this seriously dark angsty breakup thing and I was all like "nooooooo! Fluff, damn you. Fluff!" Anyway, I've rewritten and reread this so many times I don't even know anymore. Plus, I've been beaten over the head with a cold the last couple days which really impairs me when it comes to writing. Hope its okay.

Peace


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